The Law of Cause and Effect – also known as karma – is a universal principle that teaches every thought, word, and action sets in motion a chain of consequences. Nothing happens by chance; all experiences are the fruit of seeds we have sown. In this series, we explore true stories of lives transformed through karmic lessons. These accounts reveal how spiritual awareness, repentance, and virtuous living can uplift the soul and reshape destiny.
Our first story took place in 2019 and was shared by a lay Buddhist who witnessed the heartbreaking karmic consequences faced by a couple named Tuấn and Hoa. The two ran a small fruit stand near the Buddhist’s home. At first, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary – just a hardworking couple making an honest living. But as the story unfolded, it became clear that there was much more beneath the surface.
I clearly remember the first time I passed by. In front of the shop, a small wooden sign was posted, roughly painted with the words: “Freshly killed chickens for sale.” Below the sign were cramped metal cages holding five or seven roosters, their feathers shining in the sunlight, their wide eyes looking out as if waiting for something. The chickens clucked loudly whenever someone approached, but just minutes later, that sound would often end with a brief choking noise, and then, silence.
Every living being in this world, no matter how small, is created by God and possesses a soul – with an inherent right to live. That’s why the lay Buddhist couldn’t help but feel deep sorrow each time he passed by and witnessed the daily suffering of the chicken-people, dying in pain and anguish. Their lives were taken without compassion, sacrificed under Tuấn’s cold hands in the name of earning a living for his family.
I heard the chickens’ desperate cries– a sharp, piercing sound that shattered the silence around me. I stopped and instinctively glanced at Tuấn standing nearby, his left hand gripping the neck of a golden-feathered rooster, while his right hand held a gleaming knife. The rooster struggled fiercely, flapping his wings wildly, but he couldn’t break free. In an instant, the blade slashed across, and a stream of bright red blood spurted out, spilling onto the cracked cement floor as the bird’s final cry was cut short.
But what sent an even deeper chill through me was his face – completely expressionless. Not a single frown, not even a blink. He carried out the act like a machine, as if the life he had just taken meant nothing at all.
After witnessing Tuấn’s cold-hearted actions time and again, the compassionate lay Buddhist finally decided to approach him. With sincere concern, he offered a few gentle words of advice, hoping to awaken the hidden spark of compassion that might still lie deep within Tuấn’s heart.
“Tuấn,” I said gently, “I don’t mean to preach, but don’t you fear the karmic consequences of killing so many chickens? The Buddha taught that all living beings have souls. Taking their lives is planting the seeds of suffering.” Tuấn looked up at me, his eyes cold and sharp, flashing with a hint of irritation. He let out a scoffing laugh and said in a low voice, “You talk like one of those superstitious types. I kill chickens to make a living – it’s not like I’m killing people. Karma? I don’t believe in that nonsense.”
Although the lay Buddhist had gently advised Tuấn many times, he remained unmoved. Still, the Buddhist understood that Tuấn was not a cruel man by nature – he was simply burdened with the responsibility of providing for his family, and in doing so, had unknowingly created the heavy karma of killing. Yet according to the subtle law of cause and effect, the karma of killing arises not only from the act itself, but also from a heart clouded by ignorance and indifference to the suffering of other beings. During a deep meditative state, the Buddhist experienced a painful premonition –one that warned of a tragedy to come.
In a hazy dream, I found myself standing in front of the fruit shop, but it wasn’t the familiar scene of daytime. The sky was pitch black, and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. Suddenly, a giant rooster appeared in the middle of the small courtyard. He was at least ten times the size of a normal chicken, with blazing red feathers like fire. His round, glowing eyes shone brightly in the darkness, staring straight at me. I wanted to run, but my legs felt like being held down, I couldn’t move. The rooster didn’t cluck or struggle; he just stood there, unmoving, his burning eyes seeming to pierce straight through my soul. Then he spoke – not a crow, but a deep, clear voice like that of a human: “He will pay with his own legs. Blood has been spilled, the debt must be repaid.”
According to the Buddha’s teaching, disbelief in the law of cause and effect is itself a form of ignorance, because karma operates whether we believe in it or not, just as gravity continues to act even if we forget it exists. After experiencing that strange prophetic dream, the lay Buddhist could only silently pray for Tuấn to awaken before it was too late. But when karma has fully ripened, its consequences inevitably follow. In the winter of 2023, Tuấn suffered a serious accident while on his way to deliver chicken-people to a customer.
Tuấn lay in the hospital bed, his face pale, his legs tightly wrapped in bandages, though patches of red had already soaked through the white cloth. The doctor told me he had suffered a severe femur fracture, along with major spinal damage. They had done their best with surgery, but the chances of him ever walking again were nearly zero. He was paralyzed from the waist down, likely for life.
After the accident, the lives of Tuấn and Hoa spiraled into a cycle of suffering. Alone, Hoa bore the heavy burden of caring for her husband, who was now bedridden. She had to sell off the family’s possessions to pay for his medical bills and medication. The karma of taking life is one of the heaviest burdens – it harms not only the individual, but also those connected to the tainted money, just as Hoa and their young child now share in the suffering with him every day. One day, overwhelmed by guilt and remorse, Tuấn expressed a desire to meet the lay Buddhist.
“I was wrong,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I shouldn’t have killed them. I shouldn’t have mocked karma. Now I believe it… but it’s too late!” “Last night, I dreamt of a man dressed in black, his face unclear, standing in the corner of my room. He didn’t say a word, just pointed down at my legs and laughed. But the laugh didn’t sound human, it echoed as if it came from deep underground. Then he spoke: ‘This is only the beginning. The blood isn’t enough. The debt is not yet paid.’ I jolted awake, but the cold from that dream still clung to me, it felt real.” I held his hand and tried to speak calmly: “Tuấn, now that you’ve realized your mistake, it’s not too late. Please, sincerely repent, recite the Buddha’s name, and ask for forgiveness. What you’ve sown, you must indeed repay, but true remorse can help ease the burden of karma.” He shook his head, tears falling even harder: “You don’t understand. I can feel it now! Death isn’t the end. I’m afraid the next life will be even worse than this one. I’ve killed so many chickens… I owe so many lives… How could I ever repay it all?!”
As we witness Tuấn’s agonizing realization of his actions, we are reminded that repentance must be accompanied by real change. Supreme Master Ching Hai (vegan) has often emphasized that while sincere regret is essential, the karmic weight of killing is immense, and only a complete transformation of our way of life can truly help us transcend it. Master once lovingly explained the importance of being vegan in this context:
“When you begin to U-turn now and recite the Holy Names of the Saints or the Buddhas, and all the mantras from the Buddhas, then please be vegan, please. Because if you are vegan, then you are more connected with life, not with death, not with killing. Killing karma is very, very heavy. And even if you recite sincerely, but you don’t have enough time to build up this holy and uplifting energy, then it’s very difficult to use meager energy to reach a high Land, higher Realm of the Buddhas and Saints. Thus, you have to be vegan for yourself, not just because of compassion for the suffering of the animal-people, but for yourself, so that you don’t connect with this heavy, dragging, burdensome karma of killing, which will drown you, degrade you and drag you down into a lower existence or hell!”
Let us take these words deeply to heart. Choosing a vegan life is not only an act of compassion– it is a lifeline for our very souls. May we learn from Tuấn’s story to extend kindness toward all living beings and to nurture compassion in everything we do.
